Dear Fine People at Canon,

I love you. No, really. I do. And I don’t mean it in an “I’m trying to score free stuff from you” kind of a way. I mean it in an “if I weren’t already tied down, I’d marry you and your many fine products” kind of a way. I own not one but two cameras made by your fine employees. And, because I love them so much, I am quite distressed over the recent performance of one of them. I’m afraid it isn’t getting any younger and the auto focus is not performing the way it should. I need to upgrade. Unfortunately, upgrading means paying money. The money that I spent building a deck in the backyard. Which is where you come in. Maybe you could show your biggest fan a little love by sending a shiny, new SLR my way? I promise I’ll make it worth your collective whiles.

(Ahem.)

By doing a product review, of course. A product review.

I promise I’ll give the best product review you’ve ever had.

In order to prove just how dedicated I am to Canon, and to show what detailed, love-filled product reviews I’m capable of producing, allow me to share just a snippet of my portfolio.

I dabble a little bit in macro photography. This picture is of my unclothed hand. I had a long conversation with my hand about the possibility of collaborating on such an honest, bare piece of work and my hand reassured me that it would be okay with posing in the buff as long as it was artistic and central to the story. I promised that I would not take advantage of my hand or make it feel uncomfortable in any way, and this is the tasteful shot we accomplished during our collaboration. We had a mutual vision and I think you’ll agree that it was realized to the fullest.

Open and Honest

I am also proficient in photojournalism. Nothing makes me feel better than when my photography tells a story. Realism is so important. I want my art to be fanciful but also grounded. This next shot is raw. It’s real. It tells a story. The story of my unmade bed.

Unmade Bed at 11:15am

To prove that I’m the right woman to endorse your product, let me just say that I’m quite good at product endorsement. I hold commercial photography very dear to my heart and I’m not afraid to get out there and show the world the types of products that make me want to jump up and down, screaming, “this product RULES. Your life will be better if you just try it!”

An Unpaid Endorsement

I’m also quite proficient at putting together gallery shows – mesmerizing, meaningful shots of a common theme. I encourage you to notice the masterful composition of each shot as well as the flawless use of light. I’m quite proud of this collection of shots and hope someday to have them featured in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The following collection is something I like to call “stuff my daughter likes to hang from doorknobs.”

Sock in the Bathroom

Sandal in Another Bathroom

Pony on the Door

And, because I’m a big fan of bells and whistles (one of the many reasons why I so love digital photography), I’d like to show off a few photoshopped photos. I’ll call these “fun at my own expense.”

Melancholy – alternate title – That Weird UV Light Camera Sun Damaged Skin Picture Thingy

Glad I Don’t Really Look Like The Picture Above

Angelic – alternate title – Ha!

And so, in closing, may I say once again, dear people at Canon, that I love your product (especially the Rebel XTi or, if I may be so bold, the Eos 40D.) If you’d see fit to float one of those bad boys my way, I will be sure to give out a kickin’ review, made complete with many of the high quality photos that you’ve come to expect from me.

Thank you for your consideration,

Your biggest fan (WWS)

(email me!!)

Filed under: Me, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 2 Comments →

Sometimes, to remind my husband exactly why he married me, I show him my box*.

(I know what you were thinking. Perverts.)

This box holds the secret to Life. No joke. In just a very short time, you will understand completely how Life is pointless, stupid and not unlike running around in oddly-shaped circles. Oh, and it’s also a lot nerdy.

(I can’t believe I’m doing this…)

When you first open up the magical box, you get a glimpse of the rules of Life. They’re marked down, plain as day, in a complicated, poorly thought-out simple, straightforward manner. Follow the rules, stay positive and, if you’re lucky, Life will be good.

Unfortunately, sometimes Life sucks, and you just have pick yourself up, dust yourself off and roll with the punches.

Speaking of rolling, can someone please explain to me why I keep rolling Hard Eights? I just don’t get it…

If you don’t get a proper education

Life can be tough.

But the right career can set you on the path to success and copious amounts of brightly coloured money!

So, you’ve read about and seen firsthand the secret to Life. It still doesn’t make any sense at all, does it? Life can be like that. 

(Only 3 easy payments of $19.99!) (Box sold seperately.)

* So, yeah, my parents are moving and cleaned out their basement. Because they didn’t know what else to do with it were so intensely proud of my efforts, they gave me this old box. I made that game for the family for Christmas (actually expecting everyone to play it!) when I was about 10. The internet wasn’t available then, what can I say? We all need our creative outlets!

Filed under: Confessions, Keepin' it Real, Me by WWS (Lynn) - 9 Comments →

I’m bringing lazy to a whole new level. Ever since my husband ever so thoughtfully purchased a laptop for me, I have been doing all of my blogging from an almost completely prone position. Heaven forbid that I should actually sit all the way up while typing.

But, enough about me! Onto bigger and better things, such as the birthday party that happened SO last week. I’m not big on keeping current around here. I’m just happy to be coherent enough to type anything at all. Parenthood does that to a person.

This year, we toyed with the idea of having an unparented birthday party but the choice of venue just didn’t support it.

(Ha! How’s that for coherent? I might just be the first person ever to write about a birthday party so that it comes out sounding like a call to tech support.)

(Hey! Wake up! I’m trying to write about my kid’s birthday party here. Have a little respect!)

Instead, we were faced with a guest list of 25 people. That’s where the 2 for 1 pizza came in.

I spent a few hours the night before the party baking and decorating this cake:

I figured that since I made this exact cake only two short years ago, it would be, ahem, a piece of cake to decorate it. Despite my high expectations, it looked pretty much exactly the same. What can I say? I guess I’m a slow learner. In any case, the kids loved it and The Boy thought it was the best cake ever, so I’d have to consider it a success.

I also made some Spider-Man themed cupcakes, just to make sure that there would be enough for each guest to properly stain at least one item of clothing. I’m generous like that.

When I was deciding what to top the cupcakes with, I thought that a simple “6″ would be appropriate, what with The Boy turning six and all. Then I realized that cupcakes lined up in neat rows of three, each decorated with the number six, wasn’t exactly the kind of birthday vibe I was going for. I’m heading toward having my own special place in hell already without adding in any colourful satanic imagery to seal the deal. So, did what any God-fearing woman would do. I went with spiders.

The Boy had a gymnastics party this year, and, at the risk of sounding lazier than ever, can I say that possibly the best part of the whole thing was not having to clean up my house? Also, I didn’t actually have to plan anything. It’s pretty awesome when you can phone in the entire party and still have everyone in attendance believe that you rule the world. See? Always thinking!

The kids spent the first hour jumping and rolling and rope climbing and head standing. Then we did food, cake and presents before capping off the event by jumping headlong off a trampoline into a giant pit of foam blocks. It can’t get much better than that.

I had no idea that my kid could do this:

I really shouldn’t be surprised, though. He did dress up as Spider-Man for career day at school after all. Ah, the power of positive thinking. It won’t suprise me one bit if the little spider monkey does become a super hero when he grows up.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Offspring, Uncategorized by WWS (Lynn) - 3 Comments →

Yesterday I added a couple of Weight Watchers point calculators to my eBay “watched items” folder.  Then I ate a cupcake.  Just a little something I like to call “self-sabotage.” I think therapy might be in order here.

Filed under: Confessions by WWS (Lynn) - 4 Comments →

Or, it could be that my husband was sitting right at butt level, deliberately taking less-than-flattering pictures of me…

This is what I look like when demonstrating my super awesome ski jump skills. What’s even more impressive is that I haven’t yet tripped over all the crap in my bonus room and died. That’s a monstrous pile of princess dresses off to the left. Funny how they never stay put away for long. My daughter is such a diva that she changes clothes at least 15 times a day. At least one of us has enough clothes to do so. I have about four t-shirts and two pairs of jeans to my name. It’s not pretty. Send gift cards.

Filed under: Keepin' it Real, Me by WWS (Lynn) - 3 Comments →

My boy is six years old today. Six years. While I love watching him grow, every time he has another birthday, my heart breaks a little. He’s growing up far more quickly than I anticipated. I’m positively brimming with nostalgia and cliches. Where does all the time go? Enjoy the time you have, because it’s gone in the blink of an eye.  Kids just grow so fast.  Et cetera.

When I get nostalgic and mopey, I tend to remember back to the day he was born. It helps me to remember that the fact that he’s growing up at all is such a blessing. It doesn’t stop me from being a little blue that he’s not a baby anymore, but it does help me to more fully appreciate all the wonderful things he’s experiencing now. 

And, because all moms love to talk about their kids, I think a good, old-fashioned flashback is in order. Let’s head all the way back to the day The Boy was born, shall we? But first, a little background pregnancy information…

When I was pregnant with my son, one of the issues I had (and there were several) was placenta previa, where the placenta is low in the uterus and covers the cervix. Because of this, a cesarean section is necessary to deliver the baby since if the placenta comes first, the baby dies. Not exactly something you want to hear whilst pregnant with your little bundle.

I had six ultrasounds throughout my pregnancy in order to keep a close eye on the troublesome placenta. The last ultrasound supposedly showed that the placenta had moved out of the way, so I was cleared for a natural delivery. After months of modified activity and a couple of weeks of bedrest, I was thrilled to finally be able to catch a break.

My blood pressure was beginning to creep up, so I was induced at 8:30 in the morning and had mild cramps on and off until approximately 4:30pm. At that time, my doctor broke my waters and put me on a pitocin drip. I went into (what I considered to be) hard labour immediately. I had one long, neverending contraction. I couldn’t talk. I threw up a couple of times. I hadn’t had any pain medication. All I could do was lay on my side and breathe. I listened to the baby’s heartbeat beeping away on the monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Then, beep…. beep……. beep……………………………….. beep………………………………. beep. I whipped my head around to look at the monitor and saw that my son’s heartbeat had gone from its usual 150bpm down to 60bpm. I forgot about all the pain as I pleaded with my husband to go get the nurse from wherever she was hiding. She had, for whatever reason, been avoiding me the entire time. Likely because I hadn’t been in labour long enough to have earned her attentions. It was no suprise that my husband couldn’t find her. He did manage to pull in a student doctor who looked at the monitor and completely freaked out. She went running from the room in a panic and before I knew it, the room was aflurry with activity. I was rolled from my right side to my left and back again. When the heartbeat didn’t recover, a release form was thrust in front of me. I scribbled a few unintelligable lines on the form and was given a catheter as I was being wheeled to the OR. (As I remember it, the nurse ran at me with the catheter from across the room like a cowboy branding a calf. It hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear that was engulfing me).

There was no time for an epidural so after lying down on the operating table, I was held down with my arms out and given general anaesthetic. As I looked up and saw the circle of floating heads staring back down at me, I was hit with the insane image of a Far Side cartoon I had once seen, entitled “Custer’s Last View.”

It would have been funny had I not been so blindingly terrified.

All I can remember is sucking the gas back as hard as I could, hoping to put myself to sleep as fast as possible so that the doctor could get the baby out. My last thought was, “what if I wake up and I have no baby?”

To their credit, the hordes of medical staff present in the OR got my son out quickly. He scored a one on the Apgar test. No one told me at the time, but he was essentially stillborn. The on-call pediatrician brought him back from the brink and they put him in an oxygen tent in the NICU. He looked like a little pincushion, he had so many tubes and wires coming out of him. Apparently he cried all night, but I have to take my husband’s word for it, since I wasn’t allowed to see him until the next day.

When I woke up after the c-section, I felt like I had been ripped in half. I had no pain medication in me and the doctor’s hadn’t had time to be gentle. It was agony. It was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life, bar none. I was given two shots of morphine and brought to a private room. My son was still in the nursery. When I was able to finally see him the next morning, we got our IV cords impossibly tangled up and needed a nurse to get us separated. I nearly cried. I had a thousand emotions rioting inside, ping-ponging between relief and anxiety, joy and immense sadness. I felt ripped off. Every one in my family had held my son while I was in my post-surgical stupor. I hadn’t even been given a chance to see him. Mostly, though, I was just so incredibly happy to see him, alive and well. Breathing. Blinking. Looking right at me with his incredibly bright, baby eyes. Grasping at me with his teeny fingers.

After a couple of days in the nursery, my little boy was deemed healthy enough to come stay in my room. We were discharged the next day. I felt like I was being told to walk the plank. I could barely walk. It took me 10 minutes to work my way out of bed. I was reeling from the shock and trauma of his birth. I felt completely and utterly unprepared for life with a baby.

Not surprisingly, I ended up with a pretty wicked case of post partum depression. I fought through it for 3 weeks (if I had a day where I cried 3 times or less, it was a really good day) and finally my doctor told me that enough was enough. I was put on Paxil which helped immensely. I began to feel human again. By the time my son was 6 months old, I had weaned myself off the drug and was feeling like the mom I wished I could have been from the beginning.

I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am that my boy is alive and well. It so easily could have been very different. No matter how it tugs at my heartstrings, he is meant to keep growing and thriving. I would never wish that away. Each birthday is a reminder to me that my boy is still on this earth for a reason and I can’t wait until he grows up and shows the world what he’s made of.

Filed under: Random by WWS (Lynn) - 7 Comments →

*** It took me ALL DAY to write this post. Every time I had a moment to sit down, something would happen. Ah, the plights of a mother with young children. The next time I feel the urge to blog while the sun is up, I will remember this day – the day heretofore known as “The Day of Perpetual Interruption, Frustration and Chaos.” And then I will write it at night, when the house is quiet. Just the way I like it.

In the interest of clarity, I have gone ahead and inserted the approximate times of day in which I wrote each section of the neverending post. I may do a happy dance when I finally get to hit “Publish.” ***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10:00am

I’ve been feeling a bit foggy-brained lately. It might have everything something to do with the fact that since the loss of her beloved sucky, my daughter has more or less stopped napping and she’s decided that 4:30am is a great time to get up for the day. Newsflash, you crazy little bugger, it’s not okay. It’s never okay. I’m considering a lock for the door. And a muzzle. Or maybe one of those zappy dog collars to give you a jolt when you get too loud.

(Not really.)

1:30pm

Today has been an exceptionally bad day. The Girl has been exhausted, constantly rubbing her eyes, yawning and crying at the drop of a hat. (She went into full hysterics at lunch when she spilled her milk on the table.) (Apparently, I forgot to teach her that there’s no use crying over spilt milk.) She doesn’t have bags under her eyes. She has suitcases. Definitely not something you want to see on a 3 year old. So, I tried to keep a positive outlook and put the little munchkin down for a much needed afternoon nap.

It all started out fine. She went to her room willingly, changed into her pull-up (just in case) and picked out two stories. 

“After we’re finished reading stories, what are you going to do?”

“Go to sleep.”

 ”And you’re going to be a good girl, close your eyes and actually sleep, right?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

(Excellent.)

2:30pm

Less than 10 seconds after I put her to bed, the excuses started.

“I’m fursty.”

“I have to go pee.”

“I want to read stories.”

“I just want quiet time.”

“I don’t waaaant to go to sleeeeeep.”

“I want ouuuuut of here!”

“Mommy, you are making me fustrated. I’m mad at you and I don’t want to hear it! Nothing! Mommy!”

In an exhaustion-induced last ditch effort to get The Girl to go to sleep, I laid the (figurative) smackdown on her. 

“If you don’t go to sleep, I’m going to take Baby away from you.”

“If you don’t go to sleep, I’m going to put a lock on your door!”

“If you don’t go to sleep, we are sooo NOT going to the park later this afternoon.”

“I’m going to count to three and then that’s it!”

“Do you want a spank on the bum? Is that what you want?”

And, in the words of the wonderful and talented Mercer Mayer, “Just go to bed!”

Hey, stop laughing. It could have worked. In some alternate dimension somewhere. Maybe.

3:30pm

Over an hour later and the exhausted little wretch is still awake. My nerves are frayed. She is going to bed early tonight. An hour early. More if she’s not careful. I know sleep-deprived when I see it. (I get practice identifying the look every time I glance in the mirror…)

We’re going to the park now. I don’t care what I threatened before. I need out.

7:30pm

Ah, blessed silence. She’s asleep. So is her brother. True to my word (which I keep at least some of the time) I put her to bed early and she was dead to the world by 6:45. I sure hope she sleeps in tomorrow. It’s either that or I make good on my threat to sell her on eBay.

And now, because I like to get all Quentin Tarantino-y* sometimes, I’m going to skip around and splice in a little something I wrote earlier today, just to give you a little background on why I am hanging onto my sanity by a single thread.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Until today, we’ve been stuck in a perpetual downpour. It’s been raining for days, which means that the kids have been stuck indoors. With me. And the same, boring four walls. They are officially outdoor kids (don’t worry, they’ve got a special heated kidhouse and a kidrun in the backyard, and we bring them inside during the cold winter months) and so they’re going completely stir-crazy in the house. Stir-crazy kids = just-plain-crazy mommy. I think they’ve officially broken the sound barrier at least half a dozen times. There has been much couch-jumping, petty arguing, pushing, yelling and running. I’m on day who-the-hell-can-even-keep-count of a killer headache. I’m starting to get desperate. We need to get out of the house! If we bake any more cookies, my butt will officially be too big to fit through the door and I’ll end up being one of those people who has to be air-lifted out of their bedrooms with a crane when they die and I’m really, really not excited about that possibility especially when I’ve otherwise been watching my diet really well except for those 100 calorie chocolate bars because they’re just so darn tempting and plus they’re so small that I really don’t think anyone can eat just one but I’ve been walking for an hour every night and I even bought some of those goofy-looking 3 pound wrist doughnuts to help me tone my upper body while I’m walking and the walking just won’t be happening if I can’t fit out of my house so please, please, Mother Nature or whoever is in charge of the rain, just make it stop already before I completely lose my freaking mind.

** Excuse me while I put my head between my legs. I’m feeling a little lightheaded… **

So, um, yeah. All rain and no sun makes mommy a crazy lady.

Wow, negativity sure is a slippery slope, isn’t it? Before I slide down too far, I’d better distract myself with someth….

Hey, puppies!

Aw, so cute.

What was I saying again?

* you know, because Quentin Tarantino’s movies are famous for being all broken up and crazy, switching back and forth between the past and the present? Ah, whatever.

Filed under: Me, Pity Party, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 2 Comments →

One of my favourite blogs of all time can be found here. Ree has a cooking section where she gives step-by-step instructions on how to make all sorts of sinfully delicious and wonderfully fattening dishes. I love that site. I even have plans to make some of her recipes when they come in a TV dinner style box in the freezer section of the grocery store when I have enough time. For now, I’ll just read about them and drool on my keyboard.

Because imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I’ve decided to do my own tutorial on how to bake the most fabulous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies ever in existence. I’ve even enlisted the help of my fabulously talented and very grown up 3.5 year old daughter. Prepare to be wowed.

The cast of characters: egg, butter and Quaker cookie mix (*snicker*)

Begin by carefully cracking one egg into a mixing bowl. Be careful not to completely obliterate the shell – these cookies are supposed to be chewy, not crunchy.

 
Add 2 tablespoons of melted butter.

And, finally, pour in 2.5 cups of cookie mix.

Mix.

After about 30 seconds, your “dough” should look like this, although if you don’t have a chocolate-chip-sneaking little girl like some of us, yours should be a little chocolaty-er.

Next, vigorously shake by toddler-sized fistfuls gently drop by teaspoonful on a lightly greased cookie sheet.

If you follow the directions exactly, you should have a good 18 cookies. We have an even dozen.

Place the cookies into a 350 degree oven for 11 minutes…

… and take a moment to enjoy the carbs fruits of your labour.

Remove cookies from oven and place on a baking rack to cool.

Proceed to cook dinner including meat and potatoes but no vegetables. When husband comes home and complains that there’s no corn on his plate, instead of telling him to check his ass check the freezer and defrost them himself, you say, “But I made dessert!” Husband, who is well known for asking you why you are not his mother why you don’t prepare a dessert to finish off every meal, is appeased.

Serve cookies to your family and revel in your son’s rapturous cries of, “they’re okay.”

So, the next time you’d like to prepare a little something extra for your family, feel free to come here and see how it’s done. Or, you could read the directions on the package. Your choice. Bon appetit!

Oh, and just one more thing. Allow me to present my first new butter dish:

Butter dishes are the greatest things since the sliced bread I plan on buttering with the butter that I’m storing in my new butter dish!

Wait. What?

Someone should have told me how wonderful butter dishes are. Do you have any idea how easy it’s going to be to make toast? Or grilled cheese sandwiches? Or anything involving copious amounts of carbs and fat? The daunting task of microwaving the butter just enough is no more!

It even matches my dishes. Which is why I’m keeping it in the pantry where no one can see it… Obviously.

Anyway, I’m just so tickled with my purchase that I know my butt will be laughing all the way to the gym.

Filed under: Random by WWS (Lynn) - 3 Comments →

The sucky is gone. I have mixed emotions about it. To be honest, I think it’s harder on me than it is on her…

Filed under: Pity Party by WWS (Lynn) - 3 Comments →